


My Heart

by dream_vs_nightmare



Category: Castle, Forever (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Mortinez, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream_vs_nightmare/pseuds/dream_vs_nightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I do hope you don’t mind sharing, Detective.”</p><p>A wave of her perfume rolls over him, then, subtle and sweet and warm as his hand finds her waist and pulls her close under his umbrella, close enough that he can smell the lingering shower gel on her skin and shampoo in her hair. She smells like vanilla and jasmine, like coffee and rain, like something so ineffably Jo, he cannot bring himself to let go of her as soon as he probably should. And when she makes no move to shy away from his touch, leans into him rather than away from him, he dares think that maybe she doesn’t want him to let go so fast, either.</p><p>Henry, Jo, and moments shared beneath a small umbrella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superlc529](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superlc529/gifts).



> Or, the one where Lanie Parish thinks our girl Jo's dating Henry. She's wrong, though. ...Right?
> 
> Inspired by a tumblr prompt from jo-martinez: Henry reaching around Jo’s waist to pull her under a small umbrella that they end up sharing for a while.
> 
> Set around episode 01x03 of Forever and episode 03x12 of Castle.

* * *

“Castle is…” Jo pauses here a moment, taking a long sip of her caramel macchiato. The caffeine doesn’t seem to help her find the word she’s looking for, though it does send her eyelids fluttering closed and her lips curving in a slow blooming smile. Some soft and unprofessional feeling seeps into his stomach at the simple joy on her face, and for the life of him, he finds himself unable to look away from her.

The smell of rain lingers in the air around them the longer they walk, but Jo seems to pay it no mind as she delves into a story about the 12th precinct. Eyes open once more, she murmurs that when Kate'd called her saying they'd needed her help, Jo had figured it’d be one mess of a case that her team just hadn’t been able to solve on their own.

“And then I thought, wait, what if it’d had something to do with her mom’s case?” She says around another sip of her drink, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders as the caffeine works its magic.

Henry knows not what’s happened to Kate’s mother, but thinks better than to ask and put a damper on the Detective’s good mood. It seems that coffee does for her what tea does for him, and he’s not yet ready to see the smile slip from her face - much less be the cause of it. So he doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t elaborate, instead turning toward him and asking, “D’you know what they called me down there for, Henry?”

“I haven’t the faintest, Detective,” He says as he meets her gaze, gray light of the morning doing nothing to dull the burnished gold in her dark, dark eyes.

“Vampires.” She says without fanfare, and he’s not sure if she’s joking when she looks at him like that; her lips are still curved up in a soft smile that he wishes and wants and aches to see more of.

“Vampires?” He echoes with a disbelieving tilt of his head as the first peel of thunder rumbles overhead. He knows the rain’s soon to follow, smell of it heavy in the air as they make their way towards the crime scene.

Jo just hums in agreement and murmurs, “You woulda liked that case, actually. But Castle, well…” She trails off again, smile widening a touch even as she shakes her head. “He’s kinda like Lucas."

Henry groans at the thought and murmurs, “Do remind me why you dragged me out here again?”

“Dragged?” Jo nudges him in the shoulder, grinning further as she says, “You came willingly, buddy.”

He exhales long into the morning and shakes his head, unable to keep a straight face when she’s looking at him like that. He leans close to her, into her, and dares murmur, “I do believe I was bribed” into the shadows of her hair. He thinks to add, "with Earl Grey, no less" a moment later.

She scoffs at the notion and says, “I would do no such thing”, serious note in her voice ruined wholly and completely by the smile that blooms across her lips. The space between them widens some as he moves his lips away from her hair, then, and there’s a moment where he wonders what the rest of the world sees as they walk down the street together. Do they see them for as they are, or for what they could be?

He pushes that second thought away as fast it comes, reminding himself that they’re partners. Just partners. Even so, though, he thinks he likes her all the more when they’re away from the precinct - she seems happier when she’s away from her desk, lighter when someone else is handling a case. He makes a mental note to test this theory sometime soon, to help her with paperwork or something over a cup of coffee and a warm meal.

The sky opens up between one fast beat of his heart and the next, and he moves to open his umbrella before he can get well and truly wet. Jo shivers as the cold summer rain kisses her hello, conversation quieting as she tries to keep warm despite the coming storm. She's skipped wearing gloves today, and her jacket seems to be sorely ill-suited for the drizzle. 

So he leans toward her once more, smiling some as he murmurs, “I do hope you don’t mind sharing, Detective.”

A wave of her perfume rolls over him, then, subtle and sweet and warm as his hand finds her waist and pulls her close under his umbrella, close enough that he can smell the lingering shower gel on her skin and shampoo in her hair. She smells like vanilla and jasmine, like coffee and rain, like something so ineffably _Jo_ , he cannot bring himself to let go of her as soon as he probably should. And when she makes no move to shy away from his touch, leans into him rather than away from him, he dares think that maybe she doesn’t want him to let go so fast, either.

“Uhm, no…” She murmurs, then, blinking at him once, twice, before she says, “No, not at all.”

He keeps his hand on her waist a long moment more, fingers lingering there even when they approach the crime scene. Caution tape and the heavy, metallic scent of blood greet them, then, both seeming to break the sudden and strange spell that’d fallen over them just a moment ago. 

A lovely looking woman with warm brown skin, curly hair, and dark eyes moves over to them in the next moment. He thinks Jo had said her name's Lanie Parish, which seems like an amusing play on words given her career choice.

The M.E. looks first to the hand Henry’s still got around Jo’s waist, gaze drawn there before anything else. She turns her attention to him next, eyes moving over his form in one slow-moving wave he dares think means he’s being checked out. 

“Well doctor, doctor, what d’we have here?” Lanie says in a voice that sounds much like a purr. Oh, dear Gods. It's been quite some time since someone's looked at him like this, spoken to him like this, and he's no idea what to do. But her attention thankfully flits to Jo soon after that, with her turning toward the Detective and murmuring, “So when were you gonna tell me you and Doctor McBritish over here were dating?” around a wide, white smile.

Henry sputters at the word _dating_  and is all too quick to say, “I can assure you, we’re not courting, we’re simply-"

“Henry’s just my partner, Lanie, we’re not uhm-“ Jo says in the same instant, face flushing with heat as the word _courting_  seems to sink in. “We’re not."

“Mm-hm.” Lanie says around a hum as she moves a hand to her hip, looking sorely unconvinced at both statements. “Well if you two wanna get your non-dating selves over to the body, then we could get some work done.”

They move towards the victim without so much as another word, with Henry snapping on a pair of his own latex gloves as they walk. Jo and Lanie seem to share a look, then, one that transpires so fast, he doesn’t have a chance to interpret its meaning. The 12th’s M.E. seems to hang back a ways after that, murmuring things here and there to a Hispanic man with a strong jaw and easy smile. Henry remembers his name as Javier, and turns away to give he and Lanie some privacy when he hears a whispered _mi corazon_ between them. 

“My heart,” Jo murmurs as she turns toward him, leaning close enough to kiss. 

“I beg your pardon?” Henry says in reply, having been completely and thoroughly distracted by the sudden thought of kissing her.

She nods her head towards Lanie and Javier and says it again, this time in Spanish. Her voice is as warm as honey left to sit out in the sun, and there’s a dangerous moment where he near forgets she’s saying the phrase for clarification and clarification alone. He knows what it means without translation, but oh, his stomach dips and warms at the words all the same.

His lips curve into a smile, then, crooked and slow, as he dares repeat them back to her. Her mouth falls open at his near perfect pronunciation, though she does point out that he doesn’t quite roll his _r'_ s enough. He takes it all in stride as they approach a pair he presumes to be Kate and Castle, bantering in soft tones as they examine the body together. He can see why Jo had said Castle might remind him of Lucas - because in the moment they approach, the writer whisper-hisses, “Yeah, okay,  _but it could totally be a government conspiracy this time!_ "

And he doesn’t know if it’s because of the rich smell of Jo’s macchiato or the electric charge in the air between them as they stand beneath his umbrella, but Henry doesn’t stop himself from leaning close to her and murmuring, “Perhaps you should teach me just how to roll my _r_ ’s some time, Detective." 

“Is that your way of asking me on a date, Doctor?” Jo asks around the softest of smiles as she meets his gaze, looking like for all the world she’s joking.

“Mm, but only if you want it to be.” He says around a smile of his own, looking like for all the world he isn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Because this was way necessary.


End file.
